


Lacrimosa

by ghee (sabakunoghee)



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Astral Projection, Canon Compliant, Dark Magic, Dark Stephen Strange, Heavy Angst, M/M, Occult, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Resurrection, realm of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 17:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19090075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabakunoghee/pseuds/ghee
Summary: “From the dust you are, and to the dust – tome– you, shall, return.”T rated | Canon/IC | AngstA one-shot about Tony Stark, Stephen Strange, and the journey to the realm of the dead.





	Lacrimosa

“My, my,”

 

The voice was feminine. Sultry. _Seducing_.

 

“If it’s not the guardian of the Earth.”

 

It appeared as a [woman](https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Death_\(Earth-616\)). A total opposite from its traditional personification: human skeleton dressed in a shroud and clutching a scythe. Manifested itself as a refined young lady with all-black attire draped her hourglass shape. Waist-length, velvety, deep-colored hair matched her twinkling dark eyes. Porcelain-like skin met slim limbs, long fingers, well-polished nails. She was simply breath-taking, fascinating; to call her plainly ‘beautiful’ would be an insult. Dealing with her almost felt like teasing the catastrophe – an appealing silhouette masked unlimited, apocalyptic level of power.

 

The goddess of decay and destruction, sat arrogantly on her ostentatious throne, to face her was to face the death itself. Hence, her _name_.

 

Stephen Strange kneeled before her, head down.

 

He didn’t do it willingly, nor did he surrender to the temptation. The journey to the realm of the death demanded immense bills his both physical and astral form had to pay. And he was exhausted.

 

A bead of sweat trailed down his jawline. _Impossible_. It was his soul traveled outside his mortal body; he wasn’t supposed to undergo physical reaction in the ancestral plane. Stephen struggled to see the face of the Death, his vision was hazy and his brain translated the psychedelic experience as a threat.

 

“Take your time, Mortal, your puny, weak vessel begs for a little adjustment for being in a place a living thing should never belong,” the dainty figure left her cathedra, slowly closed the gap between her and the unexpected guest; made the intruder _clear_ who was in control, “ _Human_ , even breathing makes you suffocate, I see,” the Death giggled. She needed no words to announce her authority.

 

The sorcerer didn’t immediately reply – he wasn’t able to.

 

The air around him was thick and heavy, smelt like incinerated rotten corpses, nearly impossible to inhale. His eyes caught a glimpse of suffering, red, red, _red_ of blood. Scream, screech, shriek, the deafening sound of helplessness tore his eardrums. Don’t even start with the flaming temperature; it wasn’t hyperbolic when Stephen felt that his skin could literally melt or worse, _evaporate_ , at any time.

 

(And so, he obediently followed her suggestion; to take his time, to adapt.)

 

As he gave a chance to his astral form to comply, Death silently stood in front of him. His chin was lifted by the toe box of her heeled boots; Stephen’s head was wobbly but the mistress kept it steady, as the ageless entity took a closer look at his bruised face. She stayed impassive when she pushed and stepped on the side of the wizard’s head, pressed the guardian’s nose against the scorching floor.

 

Stephen grunted in pain. The heat affected his transparent form, and he couldn’t stop questioning why and how. He couldn’t tell which one was real and the confusion clearly painted on his expression.

 

Death snapped her long fingers,

 

An invisible force pushed Stephen’s body, caused him to roll on his side.

 

“Things work quite differently in the realm of death,” she spoke coldly while watching Stephen tried hard to sit down, “And you, ignorant fool, I believe you’re more than just worthy for being able to reach me here,” a gentle curve bloomed on her pouty, crimson lips, “ – Stephen Vincent Strange?”

 

Stephen finally could fully control his astral form and weakly responded, “You know my name.”

 

“I’m intrigued by your proper knowledge, yet you’re too insignificant to obtain the title of Sorcerer Supreme,” she eyed him intensely, “Should I salute you for your courage, but this current, weak _you,_ don’t deserve my testament, if it’s a challenge to become immune to true death you wish from me.”

 

“I’m not looking for immortality,” he humbly refused. Slowly, heavily, he crossed his legs, gained his proper posture and sitting position before borrowing the power of the cloak to levitate himself, “Of course I’m not the Sorcerer Supreme… _yet_ ,” Stephen admitted the harsh fact with a bit of annoyance.

 

_The timeline isn’t correct._

 

However, Death kept her calmness. The earthen plane wasn’t the one and only dimension she had to take care of, as she was responsible for maintaining the balance of the cosmic and the multiverse.

 

“What do you seek?” she hissed.

 

“For you to spare an exact soul from the purgatory,” his tone was doubtless, but turned out jittery when he mentioned the sacred name of the man he missed the most, “The soul of Tony Stark.”

 

At the request, Death showed her complete surprise.

 

“I learned that you possess the ability to liberate the spirit of a living being. _This_ man—” there was a significant pause between his words which non-verbally told her a long, agonizing story, “—sacrificed his life to save the universe, alongside the inhabitants, from the decimation executed by Thanos.”

 

“Thanos…” she mentioned the name like a spell, “Interesting.”

 

With grace, Death approached the master of mystic art and put a knee on the fiery-hot floor, adjusting his eye-level with her guest. The greyish-blue eyes were flickering as he struggled to stay conscious.

 

“The Titanian you mentioned came here, wandering, aimless, and I gave him a direction, a path, to _life_ as what did he seek was the hidden mystery lies within the universe,” for a mere second, her crystal eyes saw through the dimension, and she smiled, a serene, content smile, “I told him to follow the way as was shown by the Infinity Well – to wipe out half of the population to restore the balance.”

 

Stephen shook his trembling head, “It led… The earth to suffering.”

 

“Was it?” she confirmed, “How naïve. You, mortals, are the most selfish beings, you thought you know it all, didn’t you? Always, always, judging things from your corrupted morals and adjustment.”

 

“Our home was _dying_ ,” he gritted his teeth as he mentioned it, “He, this man I wish his absolution for, put his life on a stake in exchange for the survivability of our planet.”

 

“Sweet, _sweet_ Stephen, shall I tell you a little secret,”

 

Death extender her arm. Her palm was as cold as the winter, caressed the wizard’s bare cheek and left a trace of ice on his skin. Stephen held his breath as the mesmerizing beauty before him, turned into rotten flesh and absorbed itself inside – to show him the white, pale skeleton beneath. The skull tilted its neck bones, its hollow eye socket left nothing but endless darkness, pierced into his soul,

 

“From the dust you are, and to the dust – _to me_ – you, shall, _return_.”

 

The words were beyond power,

 

“I am your bitter truth, your hardest fact to face, you hate me for being a brutal honesty; as no one could escape _death_ ,” the whiteness of his skeletal figure retransformed to her charming persona, with muscle and skin, with a grimace mimicking the crescent moon, “But for you, Sweetheart, I might make, an exception,” in her alluring appearance, Death stroked her pointy nose against the sorcerer’s face, trailing his thick eyebrow, to the white streak of his hair, following the curve of his board neck.

 

She smelled like flowers, the familiar scent of despair and agony,

 

Rare energy flew around him, encircling him, “How much for his soul?” He asked as he gasped, as the dark matter which was controlled by Death touched his skin.

 

“Straightforward, aren’t you?” she snorted, “Time is a petty concept; you, I, the soul of Tony Stark you seek, are ageless in my realm, there’s no need to hurry,” her long, cold fingers ran through his damp hair, brushed them in strange gentleness, and tugged the back of his head. Stephen grunted as he was forced to look upward, facing the flawless one with a satisfied grin on her face, “Now, entertain _me_.”

 

In excruciating pain, he sharply exhaled,

 

Death studied him, outside, inside, the black particle penetrated the skin of her martyr, fulfilling every empty space inside his body. Stephen vomited several times, he suffered for massive seizure and his vision was almost blank when the Mistress infiltrate his memories. Deeper. _Deeper_ ; it was far worse compared to his first travel across the multiverse. Stephen opened his mouth. His scream remained noiseless and his limbs were totally powerless. It almost felt like an eternity until the cosmic deity finally release him – as she witnessed the glowing, red marking on his forehead and dark circles developed around his eyes.

 

“Filthy… you, treacherous wizard,” her voice was upset and disgusted, “You sold your soul to the dark dimension in order to reach me.”

 

“Dormammu… owed me a favor for setting him free,” Stephen smirked, “A help from an old friend.”

 

“That primitive abomination!” Death raised her voice in horridness, “What an innocent being, you are, for agreeing to whatever the plague had to offer.”

 

Defenseless, he laughed, “I fathomed the consequences.”

 

“You’re clearly _not_ ,” Death scoffed, “Take a good look at yourself; you’re _dying_. Conjuring magic requires an immense effort, harnessing the power from the outside of your own realm, that, was more than enough to tear holes into your soul,” she attentively examined the sorcerer, “You are playing a game you could never win, Wizard, your weak vessel could never endure the effects, you’re shortening your life span, you’ll experience the most agonizing death – either _that_ , or eternally live as _his_ servant.”

 

“Mindless one…” he nodded, he did remember what had he done to the Zealots.

 

The fact that his human anatomy wasn’t naturally designed to adjust the after-effect of using magic completely silenced him. He knew. Of course, he _already_ knew. Every time he utilized the raw energy to cast a spell, summoned an ally from another dimension, manipulating the shape and the reality, it caused him an immense pain – there was no cure and his body was gradually crumbling. There always was a price to pay; to protect the earth from inter-dimensional threats required the strongest will. He would sacrifice _everything_ , the same way the man of his destiny surrendered to his fate that day.

 

“I accept the contract,”

 

“Sly,” Death snorted as he summoned a soul. An orb appeared before their eyes, floating above her hand, glimmering yellow. Stephen swallowed hard; he almost could hear the annoying voice of Tony Stark from the sacred sphere – but he made no movement and waited, “You’re going to need a vessel.”

 

“His body,” it was hard for him to say the word, “…is safe, with me.”

 

“He would not survive for a long time in your realm, Wizard, time suffers him, and whatever remained of him would deteriorate fast. He, basically is a dead matter in the world of the living, it’s against the rules, and to bring him back to your dimension would upset the balance of the cosmic entities. Hence, endangers my existence,” she played with the soul and grinned, “You shall see him die, _twice_.”

 

Stephen murmured, “Not if… I bring him to the _other_ dimension.”

 

“Silly, _this_ human wasn’t born gifted as you were. Since he didn’t possess any magical ability, it was easy for him to lose himself in the realm of the spirit,” Death’s tone playfully teased.

 

“No… Not the astral dimension…” he forced his brain to think fast. Not noticing how Death stared at him with a wicked smile, “When he’s in his solid form, he coexists in the parallel material universe, and so, I’ll take him to the mirror dimension… Time isn’t relevant, for whatever happened there would never affect the earthen plane…” Stephen hummed, almost unconsciously, “I could do that… I could…”

 

“Of course you could,” she let the orb escaped her, “You are the wielder of the power given by the dark dimension, Wizard, you should be more powerful in the realm of the mirror.”

 

Stephen remained wordless,

 

The orb was in his hands. It dimmed and gleamed, throbbing gently against his skin. He returned his attention to Death, cautiously asked her, “What do you want as the payment?”

 

“I’m not sinking that low with your primordial parley, you’re free to take him and leave,” she raised her index finger when Stephen was about to object, “A-ah, no, Wizard, I’m not accepting _anything_.”

 

“No, there must be a catch—”

 

“— _yet_ ,” one word to shut his mouth, and another provision to enrage him, “Besides, the soul on your grasp had already _paid_ my price. Oh, sweet, pure being, he pleaded in return for your tiny soul.”

 

“You…” Stephen clenched a fist, “What had he lost?”

 

Death’s smile was wide, and crimson, “The _most_ important thing about being a human.”

 

Stephen, controlled by anger, released his true nature and it made the dark seal on his forehead shone violently. His usual orange-colored _mandala_ was replaced by a black pattern, indicated the only raw power that mattered in her realm. Death was amused as her laughter echoed the realm. However, a wave of her hand created a giant whirlpool under Stephen’s feet, causing him to lose his balance.

 

“You are ingenious as you are devious, but your intention and your heart is genuine – no delicacy in your soul; no hatred, no grudge, no remorse, _boring_ ,” with a single slam, Death banished her guests back to their own realm, “But soon, _very, very soon_ , as you finally embrace the darkness within you,”

 

_Your soul would be the most appetizing delight to devour,  
And when the time comes, I, the Mistress of Death, will come to you and collect it myself,_

Stephen lost all his senses and everything went _dark_.

 

* * *

 

 

The sorcerer entered his mortal body with a sharp gasp,

 

It felt like a dream. A long, harrowing nightmare. Stephen forced his shivering legs to move, crawling helplessly inside the chamber he prepared, to find nothing on the chaise. _No_ , his heart almost stopped pounding, _he should be here, his body should be here_ , his inner thought almost drove himself insane. Stephen’s trembling fingers traced the sheet and found the magnolia petals which scattered over the empty room. The horror stroke him as he recalled the scent – the fragrance of Death. Panicked, he ran outside, his cracking voice resonated the whole Sanctum, frightened the cloak of levitation also the other relics. Stephen rushed to the second floor and froze on his spot as soon as he saw _his_ figure,

 

Tony – Tony Stark, fragile, lanky posture, half side of his face and torso was burnt. Wrapped in a white robe, he stood in tranquillity and stared outside the stained-glass window. The silver gleam of the full moon reflected on his delicate face, emphasizing his beautiful features, every curve, every line of his confused expression. Stephen approached him with heavy steps. Doubtful. Nervous. Excited—

 

“Tony?”

 

To say the name was almost like casting a spell,

 

The sorcerer returned the empty gaze Tony gave him; then blinked in disbelief.

 

“Is that my name?” Tony whispered, “Do I know you?”

**Author's Note:**

> The Lacrimosa (Latin for "weeping", also a name that derives from Our Lady of Sorrows, a title given to Mary, mother of Jesus) is part of the Dies Irae sequence in the Roman Catholic Requiem Mass.
> 
> Inspired by [this epic song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gz83g-82Q9c) and the movie Constantine (2015). Pardon the purple prose and the edginess lmao.


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